by Claudy Conn
Max looked around at all the books stacked around him and sucked on her bottom lip as she tried to formulate her thoughts. “Uncle Kennet, Maxine Reigate was not one of those Fios women. It isn’t in our bloodline. Yet, in her diary she wrote that she was able to see the prince even when he was cloaked with invisibility. And I have always been able to see the Fae for as long as I can remember. It was troublesome to my mom.”
“Yes, and I don’t know why that is. It is a unique gift that most Druids do not have.” He considered her a long moment. “You are a Druid priestess. There were so few of them—female priests, that is. I read a short piece about an Irish Druid priestess called Veleda, and she was known for what they called ‘inspired sight’, no doubt that means precognition, but I do think she was also able to see the Fae through, and in spite of, their magic. Perhaps because you have visions it somehow enables you to see the Fae in spite of their magic?” He shook his head. “There is so much …”
“Yes, and how do we sort through to find out what will help us when the DuLaine finally discovers us?”
“A very good question, my dear.”
“It would be a better one if we could find the answer.”
~ Eight ~
THE STAFF AT MacTalbot worked days. They arrived at about eight and left about four in the afternoon. Cook Tally prepared and left them dinner each afternoon. Bess saw to the efficient running of the house. When dinnertime arrived, all Maxie had to do was put it in the oven and heat it up.
Maxie and Uncle Kennet were in the large, well-designed, and comfortable kitchen. He was pouring the wine, she was tossing up a salad, and the wonderful wall oven was heating up individual chicken pot pies. Maxie smiled, thinking that life at the moment seemed almost good.
Lord Julian Talbot had not shown his face, so Max, although she had wondered, had no idea what his dinner plans were. Their afternoon in the library had been successful. Uncle Kennet had thrown a store of information at her that Max thought she would never remember. The library itself was tremendous, housing a second story with a walkway and a narrow staircase that led to shelves and shelves loaded with ancient, probably never-before-seen manuscripts, letters, and books. Someone had even gone to the trouble of cataloging them on the library computer.
Dinner was a normal activity. Fixing supper, enjoying wine? Normal and needed. However, Maxie couldn’t stop chattering about DuLaine, and she held her glass of wine in mid-swing as she remarked, “The trouble with the DuLaine situation is the fact that she has spent all these centuries—before her imprisonment—perfecting spells, Dark Magic spells.” She took a sip of wine and noticed her glass was nearly empty. She held it out to Uncle Kennet, and he absently poured her some more. She sipped but paused to remark, “Hmmm. This is good.”
“And what do you know of the DuLaine?” The voice was deep and resonated through her entire body. It sent shivers through and up and then down Maxie’s spine. Against her intention she spun round.
Julian Talbot’s presence unsettled her. He stood tall and built like a man ready for battle, which considering he was in the kitchen seemed inappropriate. He didn’t look like a man who had been asleep for nearly two hundred years. His blue eyes caught and eradicated all thought from her mind.
He was wearing a white silk long-sleeved T, jeans, and soft leather navy boots with silver tips. He gave off a spicy scent that was all male, and once again Maxie couldn’t breathe. Grow up, she told herself, for goodness sake … just grow up and stop swooning every single time a hunk walks into a room!
He filled the kitchen doorway, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking him up, and down, and noting the bulge in his tight jeans. Stop that, she told herself and answered, Yeah, but that is grown up. She saw his eyes travel over her. Answer him, stupid. He is waiting for an answer. Maxie opened her mouth and finally said, “W—w—what?”
His eyelids swept his cheeks. Maxie blinked. His lashes were black, and oh so thick. How does a guy get lashes like that? When he looked at her again she could see icy control in his deep blues. “The DuLaine. Just what do you know?”
Uncle Kennet pointed the bottle of wine in his direction. Uncle Kennet was happy enough to deal in wine while Maxie dealt with Julian’s question.
Julian nodded his head at Uncle Kennet, and said, “Yes, I think I will.” He walked over to the table and took up a chair at Uncle Kennet’s elbow. Uncle Kennet poured, and Julian took a long sip, then said quietly, “Excellent wine.”
“From your stores in the wine cellar,” Uncle Kennet remarked happily, not at all embarrassed about having raided those stores.
A rare smile softened Talbot’s features as he responded, “Then I must have a wine steward in my employ that does his job very well.” He glanced towards Maxie and then took another swallow.
Maxie dipped into fantasy. His English accent was clear and clipped and took her places she definitely wanted to go. It didn’t matter what he said. He could just keep saying ‘yes-no-very well-please’—anything would do. All at once she realized he was still waiting for the answer to his question.
Okay. This is going to be touchy, she told herself. She waited for him to sip his wine, and she could see him relax just a bit as he leaned back against the chair and stretched out those wonderfully muscular long legs. He raised his glass to Maxie and repeated, “What do you know about DuLaine?”
“Well … you know that I am a descendent of Daniel Reigate.” Maxie paused, but he didn’t speak as he inclined his handsome head.
“Okay.” She continued, “Then … I suppose you know that …” Maxie stopped, unable to say her own name. It was her name, but she didn’t want to see him recoil, and something told he would, so she said softly, “… that your bride kept a journal. She put down everything she experienced, everything she knew to the day … of … to the last day she wrote in it.” Maxie waited because she saw him flinch and then decided to hurry on. “Daniel Reigate continued the effort with a journal of his own. This went on almost as a tradition right down to my dad’s journal, which didn’t really give me much more than a retelling of what we already knew.” She turned to cast her uncle an affectionate smile. “Uncle Kennet here is the namesake, and heir, to the Kennet Silbury that was Daniel Reigate’s partner in 1814.”
“So … no blood connection between you?” Julian remarked more than asked.
“No … but a very beloved connection.”
Julian Talbot digested this and said quietly, “Daniel was my wife’s brother and my dearest friend.”
Max was at a loss to say anything at that point. Uncle Kennet poured himself another glass of wine. Maxie sighed, thinking that these people—some of them her people—had lived and died a long time ago. It seemed absurd to offer condolences now. She looked at her wineglass instead and noticed it was empty. She held it out towards Uncle Kennet, who seemed very pleased to refill it. She sipped and quietly offered, “Yes, well to answer your question earlier, I learned about DuLaine through those journals.” She wasn’t ready to tell him about her visions.
“Are you aware that when she discovers there is a descendent—a twin of the woman she hated and killed, she will come after you?”
Well, that was getting right to the point. Maxie’s delicately shaped brows arched as she stared at him. She thought he looked fierce, and she decided to temper her tone. “Yes, that is why we are here. We were told that the wards and protection spells around Castle MacTalbot and all its lands are still in place, and that those wards would be strong enough to keep her from entering your lands.”
“And … who told you this?”
“I did.” A strong, sexually accented male voice at Maxie’s back sent a thrill through her blood. She turned towards him. Here was her very own royal Fae, in all his human Glamour. His silver eyes were bright and his demeanor possessive as he swept through the room to come right up to take her hand and put it to his lips. Softly he whispered as he brought his eyes down to hers, “My Lia.”
She was enchanted
by the way he spoke to her, as though no other woman in the world held his interest. His manner could waken lust in a ninety-year-old woman who had forgotten romance long ago. He was the thing of dreams for all women. Breslyn fit the hero bill—if you discounted that he was a male Fae, of another race, and an immortal race at that.
Maxie, however, was made of sterner stuff, and a voice kept whispering that the prince was Fae and could only offer illusion. He would live forever, she would not, and illusion was not real. But, oh, what a great illusion. He was thousands of years old, but knowing that only served to intrigue her more. Somewhere in his eyes, she could see the ancient in him, yet it did not repel her. Instead, she thought of the things he could teach and show her. She was very attracted to all he was in spite of her inner warnings to herself … and yet … ah, there it was, that ‘and yet’.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Uncle Kennet’s face. He did not approve and did not trust Breslyn, and Maxie supposed to some extent he might have cause. She should not trust him for the very reason that he was a Fae and could do anything he wanted, and he was immortal. Who knew what he believed and thought, or if he had any ethics that were even close to human ethics. However, having thought all this through, Maxie decided to go with the flow and play it by ear. After all, soon this bloodsucking DuLaine was going to try and kill her … yup, Maxie thought, she could use all the help she could get.
She twinkled at her prince, and he chuckled. They made a happy sound together, but it made Julian’s mood turn blacker. He stared at Maxie, who caught his look with some surprise. Why is Mr. Broody glaring at me?
She ignored him and said by way of introduction, “This is Breslyn, Royal Prince of Dagda.” Max nodded towards Talbot. “And this is our host, his lordship, Julian Talbot.” She stared at Julian, who was busy glaring at the prince.
The prince had arrived with his usual flair, looking stylish in a heavy Irish fisherman knit sweater and tight faded jeans. Max hastily looked away from him and noticed Uncle Kennet watching her, this time with thoughtful concern.
As far as Maxie was concerned, Julian of Talbot was as off limits to her as was the Fae prince. Neither one would do her any good in the end. The prince was an immortal, and Julian had an immortal love for someone else; both spelled TROUBLE.
The prince spoke softly enough to make her look at his delicious mouth. “Aye then, Lia, his lordship and I have already met.”
There was an undercurrent that she couldn’t help but feel. What? And then she realized they must have met in Faery and had perhaps not struck up the best of friendships. She could only hazard a guess as to the why.
Julian had moved to the sideboard and opened another bottle of white wine, as Uncle Kennet had just finished the last one. Max looked at Uncle Kennet, hoping he would pick up the slack and diffuse the situation with polite conversation. All he did was to silently toast her with his glass. It appeared he was enjoying himself. Max made a face at him. She was on shaky ground, and he was just going to sit back and watch!
“Yes, indeed. We met briefly while I was being brought up to date.” Julian inclined his head at the prince. “I understand I have you to thank for making me one of the richest men in all the United Kingdom.”
The prince’s eyelashes acknowledged this, and he answered on a low note, “I merely carried out my queen’s wishes.” The prince moved to pour himself a glass of wine, sipped, and said, “Ah—excellent. You have me to thank for your wine cellar as well, for its distinctive selection of wines and champagnes.” His smile broadened, but his eyes were narrowed. Something about his expression made Maxie realize the prince wanted to taunt Julian. Oh yes, she thought, these two have some sort of history. He moved towards Maxie again, lifted a chair to put it very close to hers, and sat with the air of possession.
Julian’s bright blue eyes were veiled; his tone was low and held dangerous promise. He nodded at the prince. “Well done on all fronts. The fortune you have amassed for my estate will serve me very nicely. I mean to use whatever funds it will take to bring down the DuLaine.” Rage—bitter and only just contained—lined his words.
“That is our common cause, and, Julian, it won’t take money. It will take—”
Julian interrupted harshly. “Me. It will take me, Breslyn, make no mistake.”
Breslyn shrugged. “One can only hope this time you will use some caution.”
“This time I will use everything it takes,” Julian snapped.
The prince chose to ignore him and took Maxie’s glass of wine from her without lifting his silver eyes away from hers. He sipped from her glass, and when he gave it back to her, he made sure she held it so her lips would touch where his lips had been. It was bold, and it was infinitely sexy. Maxie didn’t ordinarily allow guys to get away with stuff like that, but she thought as she bit her bottom lip, These are not ordinary circumstances, and Breslyn is no ordinary guy!
Flirting was good, she excused herself. Flirting was fun. How often did a girl get to flirt with a Fae prince and have a hunk looking on?
She downed her glass of wine.
* * *
The sun was in its full glory by the time Maxie made it downstairs. In the kitchen, she made a pot of coffee, drank down a cup, and hurried outdoors for a morning hike. The views from the rolling hills of Castle MacTalbot made her stand still a moment and stare. Green patch-working was everywhere she looked. The cold air worked and cleared her woozy head. Whew—more wine than I am used to, and brandy? I never drink brandy—well except for maybe a Brandy Alexander with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
At any rate, last night’s elbow actions with the glass had brought her low. She’d slept it off for a couple of hours and then woke up with an aching head and a lot of jumbled thoughts. It was doze and wake up, doze and wake up after that. Ugh, what a night. It all came flooding back to her. Dinner hadn’t been a disaster, but it hadn’t been quite normal either. She had popped two more chicken pot pies in the oven, one for Julian and the other for Breslyn. She was surprised that Fae ate. Breslyn had explained that the Fae didn’t need to—they liked to. She set everything out on the long plank table. It was warm and cozy in the kitchen with a corner fireplace ablaze and lighted candles everywhere.
She had not expected conversation would be stellar because she could see the men eyeing one another warily. However, Uncle Kennet mentioned his interest in metaphysics, and whap! The three men couldn’t stop talking.
Uncle Kennet, who had managed to seat himself protectively beside Maxie, leaned forward towards the two hunks occupying an incredible space opposite them and offered, “What needs to be determined is what method must be used to discover the how? If all things are determined, by what method is this deduced?”
Okay, he’d lost her on what. However, the prince and Talbot dove right into this with their similar views, and so on it went.
Maxie drank her wine and watched them. They found the subject fascinating. She found them fascinating. She also discovered something else. There was that ‘old’ schoolgirl thing going on in her head, the feeling she had the first time she saw Julian Talbot’s portrait in her father’s study. She felt that old crush she had had on Talbot seep into her as she watched him converse animatedly with Uncle Kennet. Whew … she thought as she looked away from him, that is somewhere it would not be wise to go.
She put out the candles and the lights as she followed the men, who were agreeing and disagreeing on the subject at hand while they all made their way to the library.
Max watched as Julian stacked some more logs onto the grate, but Breslyn appeared at her side with a glass of brandy and softly whispered her name—well, not her name, although she did like being called Lia. Hearing him call her Lia took her to another world where there was only romance and the unexpected. There was something in the way he said it that made her feel as though he didn’t see other woman, didn’t think of other women … only her. Very seductive. She smiled at the prince and glanced at Julian, who was glaring again, and
thought the man was a moody blue!
Max took the brandy from the prince. She sipped it, didn’t like it, and immediately downed it to get it over with. She smiled to see that all three men were staring at her, each with a different expression. “What?” she asked, and shook her head. For a moment she wondered if she were tipsy. Very probably—and with good reason. She sat on the sofa. The prince immediately sat beside her.
The air in the room was tense. Testosterone headed the list of things that electrified everything that was being said. Maxie didn’t understand much of what was being said, and so she put out her brandy glass, in spite of the fact that she hadn’t liked the taste, and asked, “More.”
“I don’t think so, my Lia … I think instead I will take you up to bed,” the prince said sweetly, and she smiled idiotically up at him.
“No need, Prince.” Uncle Kennet was already on his feet. “I am going up myself.”
Julian of Talbot took this opportunity to say nothing, and for some unknown reason this peeved her. She thought it time to express her independence. “Hey, I am woman. I can take myself upstairs.”
Max got up and started off; however, both Breslyn and Uncle Kennet flanked her. When they got to the door she giggled because the three of them would not fit through the doorway. She wondered who would give in first. She could see they had a stand-off approaching, so she hung back and waved them on. Absurd!
They arrived at Uncle Kennet’s room first, and the prince and Max bid him goodnight almost at the same time. Reluctantly he gave the prince one final, meaningful look. He gave Max another and it said clearly, do not trust this one. And off to bed he went.